CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER TWO
H AD TEENAGE GIRLS , Desmond wondered, been this tedious when he was a teen himself? He couldn’t remember that far back. All he knew was that the evening was nearing an end, and he was grateful. He wanted badly to be back home, alone.
He supposed Hind felt the same; she had stopped pretending to be interested in anything he was saying over an hour ago.
“Couldn’t you have got us in at the Soho Club?” she queried, pushing aside her plate.
“You’re under age .”
Hind sighed and rose to her feet, seemingly overcome by the unfairness of it all. “Fine.” She reached for the massive red handbag she’d kept close to her side since they’d entered. “I’m going to the loo,” she said. “And I don’t need you, Val. Be right back!”
She left in a cloud of perfume and that now-familiar clatter of high heels. Desmond was finally able to take a breath. He was going to hear that damned tap-tap noise in his sleep.
Her minder, or whoever Miss Montgomery was, was sipping from a little brass-handled pot of Turkish coffee. She hadn’t said a word throughout their meal, aside from gentle reprimands to Hind whenever the latter had been rude, which was more than once. He couldn’t have said a word about the meal if his life depended on it.
But now Hind was gone, and his eyes flicked over to the woman sitting across from him.
She was petite, with soft small hands that busied themselves quietly and unobtrusively with knife and fork. Her feet were tucked neatly beneath her chair. Her dark hair was combed back into a sleek ponytail and thick lashes framed her downcast eyes. A beauty spot sat just below a generous lower lip. He found himself lingering on that small black mark despite himself. It called attention to the lush fullness of her mouth—
She cleared her throat and he blinked, then wanted to laugh out loud. That annoying teenager had wound him up so much that he’d been ogling her nanny as a way to escape the situation.
He wanted to return to the question of how she could help him win Hind’s father as a client. That was the only reason he was anxious to hear her speak again.
Because of the deal, of course.
Before he could open his mouth, though, she said, “I can’t help you, Mr. Tesfay.”
Is she psychic?
“I’m not sure you—”
“You’ve been assessing me since Hind left.” She picked up a napkin and began to dab at her mouth.
“I’m sure I don’t–”
“Don’t you?” she looked up at him then, and he found himself taking a breath despite himself. The horn-rims she was wearing had slipped down her nose and she regarded him over the top of them.
It was giving a “sexy librarian” vibe and he was very much into it. He would have laughed at himself again, but she was explaining why she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—help him. Her voice was soft and modulated, with a drawl that was reminiscent of the magnolia trees and fragrant honeysuckle he’d seen on trips to the American South. That voice took the sting out of what might have been a very sarcastic line of conversation.
When she smiled, when the soft brown glow of her cheek dented into a single, perfect dimple, he’d decided that this Miss Montgomery was very, very attractive indeed.
“And that’s why I can’t help you,” she finished, and he realized he’d checked out for a moment. She picked up her napkin and shook it out with a flourish. Desmond half rose from his chair, but she shook her head. “No, please don’t trouble yourself. I’m going to check on Hind,” she said, and was gone, with Desmond determinedly not watching her walk away. Oh, who was he kidding? He watched, and he enjoyed every single second. Her small waist sloped dramatically into hips that topped a full, heart-shaped bottom that swayed seductively as she walked—
He shook his head and forced himself to look away.
It was probably the most clichéd thing about the poor-little-rich-boy that he was, but he did appreciate a beautiful woman. There had been many since his father’s death. He didn’t use them as a means to forget—nothing could ever do that—but things like good food, good wine, pleasure found between soft willing thighs—
It was the only time he could shut off, just a little. And God knew he was tired.
Desmond had slowed down a little since turning thirty approached—not with the business, but in his playboy affairs—yet this was neither the time, the place, nor the woman.
He had a deal to close. The Sheikh seemed no closer to committing than when Desmond had started courting him as a client, and he had a feeling that this attempt to ingratiate himself had been a waste of time. He pressed his lips together in irritation and glanced down again at the vintage gold watch on his wrist; he’d put it on the day he’d learned of his father’s death, and it had barely left his arm since then.
If he could get out of here in the next hour, perhaps he could salvage the evening at least…
But he was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Miss Montgomery, whose poise was very different from the controlled haughtiness she’d wielded like a blade on her way out. Now she was breathing hard, and she looked panicked. He stood, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were wild.
“Hind’s gone!” she cried.
* * *
“Hind’s gone ?”
Val ignored Desmond, dialing Hind’s mobile for the fifth time in seven minutes. By her calculations it was nearly twenty-five minutes since her charge had disappeared. Twenty-five minutes in which anything could have happened. Her mind, as it was prone to do, leaped to the worst-case scenarios, and then some. Hind, kidnapped by her father’s enemies. Hind, robbed and left for dead behind the restaurant—
“She probably just went home.”
The phone was ringing. Val pursed her lips and pressed it closer to her ear. Three rings. Four. Five—
“She wasn’t exactly overcome with joy at our company,” he added, dryly.
“Hind wouldn’t do that,” Val said through clenched teeth, although she wasn’t sure why she was so confident. “And anyway, I’ll find her in a jiffy,” she said, more to herself than to Desmond. “Her watch has a tracker in it.”
“You mean this watch?” Desmond said, and held up the slim Cartier timepiece, which lay beneath the rim of Hind’s plate. A sound of distress escaped Val’s lips before she could suppress it, and she closed her eyes tightly.
“I’m pretty sure tracking her is illegal—unethical at least.” Desmond’s voice broke through the smudge of darkness behind her closed lids. Did he sound… amused ? “When I was her age, I’d have probably done the same. I remember slipping out of an Eid celebration when I was a kid, and I met up with friends at Glastonbury—”
Why was he still talking? She had to think. She reached out, placed her hand on his arm, and pulled out the commanding tone she usually reserved for the rambunctious boys she’d nannied for before Hind. “For a moment, Mr. Tesfay, please stop talking .”
He stopped, lifting those perfectly groomed brows to their limit, then looked cross at the fact that he’d instinctively obeyed.
“I have to think,” she said apologetically—but not really—and drew back. In the moment after speaking she’d become suddenly very aware of the muscles flexing beneath the fine soft wool of his dinner jacket.
He looked slightly less put out. “Has she ever done this before?”
“Only in the mall, and I’m not worried about her there.”
Oh, why would Hind try this, and here?
“Does she have any friends in London?” Before she could answer, Desmond Tesfay continued speaking with that butter-rich baritone that was making her insides soften, despite herself. She wanted to scream. “And Hind is—What is she, seventeen?”
“Not till August,” Val gritted out.
“Ah, a Leo. Come on,” Desmond added, when that observance didn’t elicit a smile. “She’s got her mobile, it’s on, she’ll call you when she’s ready. It’s London. She’s not a baby, and she knows who to call if she gets into trouble.”
“I pity you if you can’t see what a disaster this is,” Val spat out.
“You’re right,” he drawled. “I mean, it might be bad for you, Nanny McPhee, but—”
Nanny McPhee? Oh, he was going to get it. Val drew herself up to her full height, feeling her shapewear stretch as she did so.
“Just so you know, you’re never going to land this deal. You’re too shortsighted and ignorant to close it.”
That got his attention. A spark of what could be anger darkened his eyes to near-black. Finally, a real emotion had broken through all the bland, ice-cool charm. The change sent a thrill through her. She forced it down, and resisted the urge to take a step back.
“Shortsighted and ignorant?” he echoed softly, and took a step forward. She fancied she could feel the heat radiating from his body. This close, she could certainly smell him, the layers unfolding with each second—cloves, cinnamon, a hint of orange. There was also something heavier, like brandy, or a touch of fine-honed leather. He tilted his head and surveyed her face. She felt heat rising inside her, and her body began to vibrate with the intensity of his presence, overcoming the panic she’d felt at Hind’s disappearance.
But she had bigger things to worry about this evening, including a job she couldn’t afford to lose. But none of that changed the fact that this man was the sexiest person she’d spoken to in a very, very long time.
All amusement had left his voice, as well as his face. The practiced charmer was gone, replaced by someone much less amused, and—if it were possible—much more attractive.
“I realize that you’re likely terrified for your position,” he said in a voice so cold she felt it running up her spine in an involuntary shiver. “But I fail to see how that affects my business prospects, so if you would be so kind as to enlighten me as to why…?”
Oh, she’d enlighten him, all right. She swallowed hard, summoning every bit of self-control she’d learned in her years in the Gulf.
“First of all,” she said, relieved that her voice came out clipped and measured, “you have no idea how much of an honor it is for Sheikh Rashid to have left you, a single man, with his precious daughter all day. He entrusted you with his favorite—scratch that, only —daughter, and what did you do? You took her out to dinner, and you lost her. Yes, she acted independently, and yes, I am her chaperone, but you’re her host, and you’re the one who wants this deal. Why would he trust you with his business if he cannot trust you with his child?”
She took a shaky breath, while Desmond sat in stony silence.
“We’ll find her.” His voice was full of controlled fury. “Come, Miss Montgomery, collect your things. Let’s go.”